


A Very Dirty Way to Get Clean

by Edie_Rone



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Good times, MSR, Masturbation, Shower Sex, Smut, i may be going to hell but you'll all be there with me, smutty smutty smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 17:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20510768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edie_Rone/pseuds/Edie_Rone
Summary: A shower together, the morning after the first time





	A Very Dirty Way to Get Clean

He’d been reluctant to let her go get in the shower, holding her against him in bed and sniffing at her until she shrieked with laughter — “I don’t wanna wash us off,” he’d said between comically loud inhales, “we smell so good all mixed together!”

Until finally she’d said, gasping and pushing at him between giggles, “Sex sweat — stop that! — is a renewable resource! We can make a new batch tonight!”

Relief flooded his veins like the warmth of a good bourbon and he realized he’d been afraid on some weird, deep level that this had been a lightning strike, a spectacular one-off event that she’d calmly get over and move past. But reassured by her assumption of there being a “tonight” together, he finally agreed that the sooner they got to work, the sooner they could come home — to his place, her place, the fucking moon, like it mattered — and lose themselves in each other again.

But still, unable to help himself, he tried another gambit: “How bout we shower together, to save some time?”

She turned, naked, in the doorway, her eyebrow at its highest altitude: “Oh yes, no doubt my _breasts_ will get extremely clean. But there’s no way that saves us any time.” 

He wasn’t sure if what was on his face looked more like a grin or a leer, but whatever it was, made her laugh again. “I promise, Scully — swear to Chthulu —” he lifted a two-fingered salute in a gesture that brought a blush to her cheeks — “I will not slow you down.”

Her expression was an echo of every time she’d ever thought “I’ll just _bet_,” and god, he loved her for it. She shook her head, the very picture of rue, and padded off to the bathroom. The water came on, and it was the second-greatest surprise of the last 18 hours when he heard her yell, “Well, are you coming or not? These breasts aren’t gonna wash themselves!”

He leapt off of the bed and made it to the bathroom in record time. A slim hand beckoned from around the edge of the curtain — lucky he was already naked, no need to waste precious seconds on shedding clothes. Standing under the spray, eyes closed, she smiled and handed him the shampoo.

He pulled her in for a quick kiss — “_Mulder_,” she warned — then got to work. After everything — yesterday afternoon, yesterday evening, three o’clock this morning — he’d been sure his refractory period would take all day and involve a protein-heavy lunch for fortification. But her moans of pleasure as he massaged her scalp with the lather — plus, OK, the years-long period of abstinence and fantasy he’d just lived through, PLUS being now in the shower with the reason for and object of said abstinence and fantasy — well, they always said the South will rise again.

He kept himself a gentlemanly distance from her as he worked, and true to his word, he was making pretty good time. He did get those fantastic boobs squeaky clean, though — her laughter rang against the tiles when he phrased it that way, and he got to sneak another kiss, which was a nice bonus.

Finally, it was his turn; he bent at the waist to get his head within her reach, bracing his arms on the wall on either side of her, and it was 100% worth the sting in his eyes from shampoo runoff to be almost at eye level with her lady garden; for _that_ turn of phrase, she’d snorted and slapped his ass lightly — which only sent another rush of blood to his groin. _Down, boy_, he thought to himself with a grimace, _you swore to her_ — but, ahh, what a problem to have! 

Then she prodded his shoulder to get him to stand up, and despite the impressed look she gave him — _hey now!_ — she still made him turn around to let her soap his back. God, that felt good … maybe he’d never have to take another shower alone …

She pressed herself against him from behind, her breasts tantalizingly soft, her slippery smoothness sending waves of warmth through him. She reached around to soap his chest, her strong small hands sliding over his muscles … was that a tweak on his nipple, or … oh, _that_ one was definitely a tweak; once could be an accident but twice showed intent … he moaned as her hands slid lower, caressing his abs … _lower, please, Scully_, he begged silently …

And either she was thinking the same thing, or she actually _could _read his mind, because praise all the large and small gods, her hand went around his cock, grasped firmly, and started a soap-lubricated slide from base to tip and back again.

“Unnnngh … Scully …” he groaned. She chuckled wickedly, which made his erection bob upward; she laughed again. His dick _was _pretty amusing, he guessed, but holy fuck, what she did to him …

“God … if you knew … all the times … I did this … thinking of you …” he huffed out in between her maddeningly slow strokes.

Suddenly she stopped, her whole body rigid, her breath drawn sharply in.

Oh shit — what? Had he grossed her out? Was she offended? Oh fuck —

She let go of him and took a half-step back. Panicking, he twisted around to face her; she held up her hand like she was about to testify.

The apology was a microsecond from tripping off his tongue when she muttered, eyes wide and completely feral, “I wanna see it.”

His heartbeat started crashing through him — did she mean —

“I wanna watch.”

She meant it, yeah.

“Scully —”

She backed up flat against the tile, leaving him alone in the spray.

“Do it. Show me.”

He could barely hear her over the sound of the shower, but the command was clear. Her breathing was ragged, her tongue darted out over her lips, her nipples looked like they could cut glass. Despite the throbbing need of his erection, he stayed frozen, unable to comprehend the rapid change in the atmosphere and not quite believing she wanted him to touch himself in front of her — until she cupped her breasts with one hand, slid the other down to the apex of her thighs, and bit her lip, nodding at him in a way that clearly meant business.

That broke the spell. He fixed his eyes on hers, stood with his legs just wider than his shoulders, and took himself in hand.

Her gaze dropped to his cock. She inhaled sharply, lips pursed as if to whistle, chest heaving. He started slowly, working long strokes upward just past the head, then tighter ones downward; drops of pre-cum washed away instantly and he had to close his eyes for a second to keep from coming immediately — she was sliding her fingers up and down her folds, an echo of his movements. He squeezed tightly, breathing through his nose, willing himself to hold out.

“Tell me,” she rasped, voice harsh and smoky with desire. “Wanna know what you — think about.”

Oh jesus —

“You,” he gritted out.

“How?” A demand. She wanted specifics.

He sorted through the thousands of images he kept of her in his head, picked one.

“On your knees —”

Her moan was loud in the echoing space. He risked a look — oh christ, two of her fingers were buried up to the knuckle. His eyes slammed shut again. He took his balls in the other hand, willing them not to tighten any further, not yet, not yet —

“And you — your shirt’s open, your — your bra pushed down, tits hanging out —” He couldn’t phrase it more delicately, but she seemed ok with that, judging by the whimper coming from her direction.

He stroked harder, faster, palm gliding easily along his length in the water still sluicing down. He worked his thumb over the head on each upstroke —

“Oh fuck,” she muttered, half-sobbing, and he grunted with the effort of holding back. He didn’t dare look at her, much as he wanted to.

“Your mouth — you’re sucking — fucking me with your mouth, those lips on my cock and you want — me to —”

“Come in my mouth,” she gasped.

It was like a fire flashing through his bloodstream — astonishing, white-hot pleasure of release — and he felt for a terrible second as if he might pass out. His bellows reverberated off the walls, mingling with her cries as she bucked against her own hand and then they collapsed together — heaving, gulping, shivering in the cooling spray. 

At last he reached to turn the water off, and the silence seemed loud. He was about to ask her if she was OK when she said, wryly but a with a slightly awed tremble, “Holy shit, Mulder, you’ve been holding out on me,” and shook her head, nuzzling his collarbone.

He wheezed a laugh, kissing the top of her plastered-down hair. “I was just trying to save time getting ready for work — I’m an innocent man —” she snorted, but let him kiss her; Christ, he would never get his fill of that delicious mouth — “waylaid by a redheaded minx, who now — as promised — has very clean tits —”

“And a _very_ dirty-minded partner,” she finished, deep blue eyes flashing with amusement and lust.

He hoped she could tell how much he adored her. He grabbed a giant towel, wrapped them both in it, leaned down to murmur, soft and low: “You have no idea.”

She shuddered, clinging a little tighter and bringing her lips within a millimeter of his.

“I can’t wait to find out.” 


End file.
